Black & Red (Young Justice/Batman Fiction)

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction, meaning I own none of the characters mentioned. They are the property of DC Comics. I only own the words. :)

"And they say that a hero can save us. I'm not gonna stand here and wait."-Nickelback.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

My brother ain't moving. My hyperactive, won't stay still even for cash brother is face down on the ground. Shit, is he breathing? I run to him; I don't care how much noise I'm making. My heart is in my throat; I'm choking on it, and I think I'm gonna throw up.

Please be alive. Please be alive.

I kneel down next to my brother, fingers going to his neck; checking for a pulse. I feel the rapid throb of his pulse under the pads of my fingers and moan in relief. I almost fall flat on my ass; I don't realize I'm not breathing right until I hear the sound of my own gasps for air. My head's spinning a bit.

I giggle some; maybe I'm hysterical or something, but damn I thought my brother was dead. I look over my shoulder at the sicko-freak lying on his side a few feet away; a steel bat by his bleeding head. I chuckle some more. I'd whacked that freak with his own bat. Let's see him use that to bash in another little girl's skull. That sick bastard'll be lucky if he can eat pudding through a straw for the next few decades.

I snarl at way the side of my brother's face is turning black and blue. That bastard got him a few times with the bat. Did I hit him hard enough? I don't know, but I felt something crack when I swung and the hit connected. I hope I broke his skull open. Hope I made his brain bleed, like he did that four year old tonight.

"Robin?" I touch my brother's face, giving him a light slap on his uninjured cheek. "Robin! Wake up, bro. Come on."

The longer Dickie-bird stays quiet, the faster my heart goes. Shit. Shit. Shit. If that bastard knocked my brother into some kinda coma... "Robin, come on, man!"

A soft whimper from Dick, then he twitches.

"That's it, Robin. Come on, wake up," I coax. I've done this more times than I like to talk about, but Dickie-bird can say the same. I keep patting his cheek until he turns his face. I can't see his eyes through the mask, so I can't check his pupils for signs of a concussion.

"You okay?" I ask. I leave my hand on his cheek... and frown. God, his face is on fire. I move my hand to his forehead. He's hot, fever hot. What the hell?

Dick lets out a weak gasp, a flinch contorting his features. "N...no."

I think I'm gonna have a heart attack and my stomach is a pretzel. No? Dickie-bird never says he's not okay, even when he's bleeding with bones sticking out of his skin. "Wh-what hurts, man? What can I do?"

I hit the radio button on my utility belt. "Falcon to Batman, get here now!"

"My back-my back... oh God..."

I stare as my brother starts to gag. I'm shaking, but I grab him under his skinny ribs to help him sit up and he gasps like I'm running him through with a machete. I almost let go, and let him fall back on the floor, but I don't. I hold on as he pukes all over the place, and after a few minutes, he's still puking.

Concussions make people barf-but what's wrong with his back? Did that sicko-pedophile freak hit him there, too? "Hurry up, Batman"-so I can kick the shit out that unconscious creep behind me.

Dick's breathing is raspy, and holding him is like holding fire. Geez, he's really burning up. Unconscious creep probably didn't have anything to do with Dick's fever, meaning Dickie-bird was working sick. Idiot. He should have said something. I'm his partner; I never woulda let him out of my sight. Hell, he wouldna' been out here.